Page 66 of Pervade London
“Those marks on the armrests are where his fingernails scratched the leather in frustration.” James tilted his head to get me to keep following. “Quite a burden carrying Europe through a war.”
We navigated around the staff streaming in and out of various rooms.
James flashed a warm smile my way. “What did the inspector whisper to you before we left the station?”
“She was available to talk if I wanted to come back.” I stared straight ahead to hide the lie. “Where are we going?”
He paused before an office. “Here.” He opened the door and entered the room.
Standing in the doorway, I questioned whether we were even allowed in here. The gold plaque on the desk announced we’d walked into the Prime Minister’s private office.
He’ll get me arrested.
In the center of the room was a generously sized redwood desk. To prove this was the Prime Minister’s office, and to curtail any doubt to my addled brain, there was a photo on the desk of the PM himself, Charles Wildwood. He and his pretty wife were posed happily with their two children in front of a Christmas tree in the foyer here. Behind the desk sat his high-back swivel chair. The oneheactually sat in when making those tough decisions. The very man I’d seen countless times addressing the nation.
I’d voted for Wildwood—stood in a booth and ticked the box for the Conservative party, and it had made me feel so grown up. Never had I considered the possibility I’d ever be in his bloody office.
My flesh chilled as I tried to fathom why I’d been brought here.
A large gold-framed mirror hung on the wall and from here I watched James watching me. The floor was made up of intricate white tiles and I wondered who had stood on them before us. Probably visiting dignitaries and all the others members of State who had made their stamp on history.
The ceiling was just as ornate with its white piping. The office was messy but still looked organized. There were keepsakes placed here and there from visits to other countries. Like the curved sword sheathed in silver. There were photos taken with other world leaders. He’d played a round of golf with the American President, and the photo of them relaxing on the green proved they were good at faking that they liked each other.
James was proving how powerful he was.
That’s what this visit was about.
He strolled behind the office chair and held the backrest. “Sit.”
“I’m not sitting there.” I closed the door behind me. “What if he comes in?”
“Then he’ll see you sitting in his chair.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“That’s probably wise. Now sit.”
Approaching the chair, I ran through the different scenarios that could play out, but it was hard to focus while being trapped in here with James. This man was full of surprises and not the good kind. Yet he oozed a dangerous sophistication that made him magnetic and it was hard to pull my stare away from his regal stature. I’d seen how his charisma impressed the police back at New Scotland Yard. Even here, walking the endless hallways in the most reverent of places, he inspired a quiet awe.
My jaw tightened with frustration. “What point are you trying to make?”
He pulled the chair out to give me room to sit.
This, this was surreal. A moment in time that would never be repeated, and one I’d never envisioned. It was something I’d have loved to have told Xander about. Now, thanks to this man, there was no one left in my life to share this story with.
As though reading my mind he said, “Tell no one about your visit here. Understand?”
I gave a shrug.
“No, Emily, not even your mother.”
If James threatened my mum, I’d stab him with that fancy marble letter opener.
I sat in the chair, resting my hands on the armrests, and soaked in the atmosphere. There was a grandeur to it with the many files neatly stacked in their leather binders, a green desk lamp to the right for those late-night sessions. In the center of the desk rested an impressively large Apple monitor. And there, on a coaster, was a half-finished mug of tea. Proving the PM even worked on a Saturday.
This was as close as I would get to a brush with a world-renowned figure.
James leaned forward and took my hand, placing it on the desk and then wrapping his fingers around my wrist. His touch made my skin tingle. The way he held me there was intimidating.
